


The Last Seven Days

by theredqueenofsparta



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Based on a Rock!On song, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Its based in the 90's just coz, John is a Drama Queen, Like he 'composed' a song and sang it on stage in faint hopes the guy he likes will turn up, M/M, Peak Dramatique, Pining, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unilock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 08:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13268058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theredqueenofsparta/pseuds/theredqueenofsparta
Summary: As a student at St Bart's, John is used to losing stuff.his laundry card, a half-finished novel, a girl's phone number.But that fateful seventh day, John fears he might have lost something more important-A chance at love.





	The Last Seven Days

**Author's Note:**

> WOo! Six hours, some neglect of work later, I am done with this crazy off the cuff fic.
> 
> The song is from a movie called RockOn! called Pichle Saat Dinon Mein ( In the Last Seven Days) .
> 
> I was listening to the song today on the radio and all I could think was of the very careful gender-neutral pronouns used here lol and from there my mind went haywire and for six hours, unbeknownst to people at work I am writing this crazy behemoth that went completely out of my control and ended up 7000 words.
> 
> The song is Pichle Saat Dinon Mein from Rock!On written and sung by Farhan Akhtar
> 
> The lines from the show are from Ariane Devere's transcripts. Thank you so much for everything you do.

_14th February 1995  
_  
“Why did I let you talk me into this?” John hissed to a grinning Mike. Scattered applause sounded outside as the keytarist ended on a loud note that sounded like a chicken clucking for some reason.  
  
“Me? You’re the one who practically shoved me into your car and drove all the way out here, on the other end of the river”. Mike’s grin didn’t abate as he peeked his head out to survey the audience. John struggled with the zip of the guitar bag. The waitress slash announcer walked off the stage “You’re next cutie. One minute”. She winked at John and walked away, swinging her hips to the appreciative gaze of one out of two men, the other one still cursing the hell out of the zip of the bag.  
  
“Mate.” Mike bent down and moved his hands over John’s as he unzipped the entire bag in a second. “If this is too much, you don’t have to...” The flap fell on the other side revealing his father’s Harmony H47 Stratotone Mercury.  
  
“No. I - no, I want to do this.” John said with only a slight quaver to his voice, betraying his nervousness.

 “Thanks Mike.” He said with a shaky unconvincing smile to his face as he swung the guitar strap over his head as the waitress announcer started tapping the mic.  
  
“Good luck John. Go get ‘em”. Mike clapped his back and shoved him slightly ahead.  
  
“For our next act, everyone, we’ve got a first timer on this stage. Please welcome John Watson!” The waitress clapped with more enthusiasm than he thought he warranted- a sentiment echoed by the audience- as by John’s count only five clapped.  
  
“Hi. I’m John”. John situated his foot on the bottom rung to adjust himself on the slightly tall stool, a few titters coming out from the taller people in the back. Adjusting his guitar , John dragged the mic closer to him - thankfully the waitress had brought it down, saving him any more heckles from the arsehole jocks in the back.  
  
“So, uh, there’s a little story with this. When I signed up to sing , I thought I’d just sing something classic- Queen or Metallica. All love songs tell the same love story, whether they’re on a vintage or an electric anyhow. ” John smiled weakly, his heart hammering away in his ears.  
  
A soft creaking noise came from behind as the pub door opened, admitting some four people, at the head a tall sultry woman with grey eyes clad in a slinky black dress with blood-red lipstick on the arm of a bored pale curly haired man with high cheekbones and irresistible blue-green eyes.  
  
“But then a week ago- I started losing stuff. Minor stuff- a laundry bill, a half-finished novel, a girl’s phone number”. John half smiled at the murmured chortles from the crowd.  
  
“Hence all I could think of, was the last week. So clap along, cheer along if you like. This song about the things I’ve lost in the last seven days”.  
  
^^^^^^^^^  
  
_6 th  February 1995  
  
_  
_“Meri Laundry Ka Ek Bill, Ek Aadhi Padi Novel…  
Ek Ladki Ka Phone Number, Mere Kaam Ka Ek Paper…”  
  
“My laundry’s bill, one half read novel  
A girl’s phone number, a paper for my work”  
  
_  
“Are you making sausages again?” Mike yawned as he walked into the communal kitchen of the second floor of Charterhouse Square and flopped down on the table, groaning softly.  
  
“The other cats from Tom and Jerry are chasing Nibbles and Jerry in my cerebrum. The smell of the sausages is the only thing that stops them from making too loud a noise”. John mumbled, rubbing the grit from his eyes.  
  
“Your brain and stomach are fucking weird”. Mike muttered from between his arms.  
  
“No arguments here. But at least I made breakfast.” John said as he switched the flame off and put the pan on the table. “Eat up.” He handed Mike a fork and stabbed into his sausage.  
  
“Whose fucking idea was it to go out to Marylebone of all places? We weren’t getting a Tube for two hours and finding a taxi was nigh impossible, if it wasn’t for that guy who overcharged us through our noses”.  
  
“Murray. Who else? His girl lives there. She called him up when we were studying, screaming about how some cousin of hers had seen him with another girl.”  
  
“Why did he drag us with him?”  
  
“The girl his cousin saw him with is his fiancée”.  
  
“Ohhh. So-  
  
“He needed witnesses … or an alibi- depending on how it went”. Mike said between bites.  
  
“How did it go? I don’t remember anything after Soho”. John put the pan under the tap, as he filled up a glass.  
  
“When I left him, he was seriously considering enlisting in the Army”.  
  
John laughed loudly, groaning as a pulse of pain echoed through his head. He gulped down his water and looked at his silver edged watch gifted from his father on his 10th birthday. “I better take a shower.”  
  
“Weren’t you going to do laundry today?” Mike asked.  
  
“Yeah, but I smell more than my clothes right now. So shower first and then laundry. Anyway I need to go to the library to study afterwards”. John said as he opened the door to his room.  
  
“Yeah, I’ve got to study that PBL as well.” Mike said as he unlocked his door and almost tripped over a box on the floor.  
  
  
After a quick but refreshing shower, John took out the last clean shirt he had from the back of the cupboard, his Kinks Wembley 1986 T-shirt which fit snugly over his stomach.  
  
_I really should try out for the rugby already,_ John thought as he stuffed his clothes in his laundry bag. He rummaged through his pockets and his table drawers for his laundry card.  
  
“Hey, Mike.” John knocked on his door. “Could I borrow your laundry card for today? I can’t find mine.”  
  
“Okay… mate but I’ve only got four pounds on it.” Mike said as he handed the rectangle card reluctantly.  
  
“I’ll charge it up on the way; they installed one in the reception finally. Thanks, Mike”. John said as he walked towards the main door. Mike waved him off.  
  
After shoving his clothes into the washer, John borrowed a chair from the reception and restarted Maurice’s emotional journey as two equally hung-over and tired looking girls came into the laundry room, talking amongst themselves.  
  
“That first-year kid in Chemistry?”  
  
“Yeah. Apparently, he’s some kind of genius. He came here after getting thrown out of Cambridge. No one knows why though.”  
  
“Tar, not ten minutes in he called Gail an idiot, told her she was having an affair with the Bio professor and that she lied about her grade in Chemistry. It may not be that much of a mystery.”  
  
“True.  But he’s not all that bad. He did tell me that Adam was going to break up with me for Jennie, so I should dump his cheating arse first.  Plus… his face”.  
  
“He is fucking gorgeous, true. But he’s going to get thrown out if he keeps pissing everyone off like that”.  
  
John’s washer beeps as it finished its cycle. John jumped down and started loading his clothes in the dryer above. “Ladies” He smiled charmingly. The girls smiled back but showed no real interest as he pressed the necessary buttons and climbed back onto the sill and resumed reading.  
  
“You want to bet how long before he gets thrown out?”  
  
“I want to bet if I get into his pants before he gets thrown out.”  
  
“He’s a first-year Tara. That’s almost cradle robbing, ugh”.  
  
As John dragged his freshly cleaned and dried laundry bag out and topped up Mike’s card, he stopped at the corkboard where the college activities were updated. He noted the timings of the tryouts, writing it down on his hand with a pen on the desk. His head was turned as the girls from the laundry room came out with their clothes, laughing and giggling as they passed a 5-pound note to each other.  
  
_Poor guy,_ John thought sympathetically for the first year kid who had no idea what he was about to face.  
  
  
_7th February 1995  
_  
The next day, an annoyed and grumpy John stood with his hands in his pockets on the spectator’s end of the rugby pitch as rain poured down.  
  
After arguing with the librarian of the local library outside the uni, for half an hour in the morning to give him more time to return the copy of Maurice which had mysteriously disappeared after laundry day, he was extremely frustrated and raring to sweat the anger off.  
  
“Watson? Greg. You’re right on time.” A soaked tall fair boy with pretty dark eyes came running up to him and shook his hand.  
  
“John, please.” John said, shaking his hand firmly “That was one hell of a try against RUMS”.  
  
“Thanks. I took a look at your school tapes. You’re pretty good. I was surprised that you didn’t try out for the team last year”.  
  
“I would have… but family stuff came up. Before I knew, it was already Christmas and too late.”  
  
“I get it. Bart’s can be overwhelming. So, let’s see what you got. We’ll start off with running up the pitch”. John nodded as he removed his jacket. As he removed his cleats from his bag, unnoticed to him a crumpled up poster size paper fell out. As it slipped down the stands into the muddy and wet ground below, John got up, stretched himself and jogged his way to the other end of the pitch.  
  
  
“John Watson- Bart’s new scrum-half”. Mike clinked his beer glass with John and cheered.  
  
“To our Watson- may he tackle many men twice his height.” Murray said drunkenly, already three beers down.  
  
John showed him two fingers as he swigged his beer “How’s the girlfriend Murray?”  
  
“Which one?” Murray slurred good naturedly.”Hah! Trick question, I don’t have one… or the other”. Murray said as he thumped his glass on the table.  
  
“Sorry mate”. John said with a sympathetic smile.  
  
“Yeah I know. That teaches me to listen to shit my brother said. ‘Date two girls, three girls, as many as you like in uni’.” Murray mocked.  
  
“Isn’t your brother getting a divorce?” Mike asked.  
  
“Yeah, and I still listened to the fucker! This one’s on me.” Murray said loudly as he went to buy another round.  
  
“I’ll keep an eye on him” John said walking over.  
  
As John ordered two more Fosters and kept Murray from falling over, he spied a woman in an almost over fashionable black dress with dark red lipstick on smirking lips sitting opposite a bored looking taller man on the other end of the pub. Even from a faraway angle John could make out curly hair and sharp angular features.  
  
 She seemed to be teasing him about something which earned her a scowl and a glare at the same time. She looked over the pub lazily and started pointing to various people. The man started saying something rapidly, waving his hands about as her face grew indulgently frustrated.  
  
“Hi”. A tap on his other shoulder turned John away “Did I hear you’re on the rugby team?” A dark haired brown girl said in an East End accent.  
  
“Uh yes. John. John Watson” John smiled with an extra dose of ‘pulling at a pub’ charm. As the bartender passed on the drinks to him. He looked over at Mike and motioned to Murray’s slumping form on the chair. Mike looked at John and the girl next to him with knowing understanding and nodded.  
  
“So, what’s your name?” John said as he led her to a different, more private table.  
  
  
_8th February 1995  
  
“Mere Taash Se Heart Ka King, Mera Ek Chandi Ka Ring  
Pichhle Saat Dino Mein Maine Khoya  
Kabhi Khud Pe Hansa Main Aur Kabhi Khud Pe Roya”  
  
“A king of hearts from my cards, my one silver ring  
In the last seven days, I have lost this  
Sometimes I laughed at myself, sometimes I cried”  
_  
“Raise or fold?”. Sally asked Murray as he frowned at his cards.  
  
“My salary isn’t in yet and this hand is shit. Fold.” Murray said as he threw his cards on the table.  
  
“John?” Sally asked.  
  
“All in.” John shoved his chips in the centre.  
  
“Ooh, feeling cocky, are we? Me too”.  
  
“Me too boys”. Sally said.  
  
“So, Watson, I heard that you pulled some East End chick last night”. Sally asked casually.  
  
John rolled his eyes “If Murray told you that, he’s an idiot and was almost blind drunk last night, so don’t believe him.”  
  
“So you weren’t talking to a girl named… Shreya was it? All through the night?” Sally taunted.  
  
“I was talking to a girl named Shreya last night Sally”. John said nonchalantly as he observed the others surreptitiously.  
  
“Aha! So you did pull”. Sally said triumphantly as she laid down a five of hearts and a six and seven of clubs for a straight. “Read em and weep boys”.  
  
“Nope. Just talking” John popped the p as he surveyed his cards again.  
  
A collective groan went around the table.  
  
“Talking? You’re joking!”  
“This is the third one, Watson”.  
“How are you going to be a hotshot rugby player if you’re not taking advantage of it?"  
  
“Sorry mate. She did give me her number though if any of you want to jump on that grenade. I guess I’m going to disappoint you on that front… and this as well”. John put down an ace of hearts, queen of hearts… against all the other heart cards. “And for my coup de grace”. “Murray, turn away now. The king of hearts”. John flourished the card dramatically and placed it on the table.  
  
“Oh you bastard twat. You told me you lost it!” Murray said.

 

“And this is all mine.” John collected his chips cackling like an old witch.  
  
“Third night in a row John. You lucky fuck.” Murray and Mike said with no heat.  
  
“Damn it Watson. I really thought tonight was the night I was going to beat your ass. Needed it too”. Sally said good humouredly as she chucked over a five pound note towards him.  
  
“Why?” John asked as he collected the cards messily. He placed a couple of cards on the window sill as he straightened out the cards in his hands.  
  
“There’s this …arsehole in my class. Loves to create chaos in the class, can’t learn anything until the professors throw him out. Bonafide genius, so he thinks he’s better than everyone else”. Sally scowled.  
  
“What’d he do to you?” John asked  
  
“He told me Anderson was cheating on me. Telling me he wasn’t fit to touch my dirty cleats, let alone go out with me”. Sally muttered.  
  
John shivered as a gust of wind came in through the window and reached for the remaining cards without speaking.  
 

Everyone in the rugby clubs and union had agreed that Anderson wasn’t fit to shine Sally’s boots let alone be with her. But no one had dared tell her that, especially since it was an unspoken fact this wasn’t the first time Anderson had cheated on her.  
  
 “Sally, it’s a good thing isn’t it? That you found out now rather than later? I think it’s time.” John said cautiously  
  
“Fine yeah. But who the hell does he think he is? Arrogant psychopath…” Sally muttered under her breath as they put the chips and cards in the box.  
  
“Sally we love you and we’re terrified of you in equal measures. And frankly its time you dumped Anderson’s useless arse.” John rummaged through his pockets and handed her a piece of paper. “She’s bi and likes rugby players. Completely your type”. John joked.  
  
The right-wing of the women’s rugby team grinned “I’ll hold you and this to that Watson”.  
  
John winked and walked off to his room humming “I want to Break Free.” To himself.  
  
^^^^^^^^  
_9th February 1995_  
  
_“Present Mili Ek Ghadi, Pyaari Thi Mujhe Badi…  
Mary Jane Ka Ek Packet, Meri Denim Ki Jacket…  
Do One-Day Match Ke Passes, Mere Naye Sunglasses”  
  
“A gifted watch, it was really beloved to me,  
A packet of Mary Jane, my denim jacket  
Two one day match passes, my new sunglasses”  
_  
“What the fuck happened here?” John exclaimed.  
  
The locker room was completely ransacked. Clothes and wallets were strewn all over the ground.  
  
“Who the fuck did this?” Greg yelled out loudly as he picked up his broken spectacles.  
  
“Someone call the coach.”  
  
“My ciggies! They cost me a fortune for fuck’s sake.”  
  
“My fucking wallet is empty”.  
  
“Who the fuck would put red paint on my Metallica T-shirt?!”  
  
“Boys! The women’s locker room has been… Coach Perry came in to the locker room. “You’ve got be joking”.  
  
“Someone fucking stole my England v Scotland passes!” John roared. “I’m going to rip his head off”  
  
“Take a number.” Sally growled as she stomped into the room.  
  
“Donovan!” “For fuck’s sake!”  
  
“Oh, get over it”. Sally scoffed “We have a fucking bigger problem”.  
  
“Yeah no shit. Someone stole our England v Scotland passes” John snarled.  
  
Sally’s face darkened “If I find him, I’m going to rip his co-  
  
“Woah!”  “Donovan, we’re still…vulnerable here! Let us put on our clothes first”.  Another round of choruses from the entire male locker room came out.  
  
Half an hour later, Greg, John and Sally stood in the coach’s office.  
  
“A thousand in cash total, front row tickets to England v Scotland, some watches and an expensive bracelet is missing”. Greg and Sally reported.  
  
“Jaysus. Any ideas as to who could have done this?” Coach Perry asked.  
  
“No idea.” “Not a clue”.  
  
“There was something weird about this.” John said.  
  
All eyes turned to him. “Did you notice the red paint on Richard’s lucky Metallica T-shirt? The hole torn through some photos of girlfriends and boyfriends. The…colourful language spray painted on the women’s lockers? I don’t think this was just petty thievery.” John said.  
  
“You think this was a deliberate attack? On the players?” Greg asked.  
  
“I don’t know. But this is too…malicious to be just about taking valuable stuff. And anyway, the coach’s locker, five thousand in there alone. Wasn’t even touched”. John pointed out.  
  
“You might be right Watson. But the cameras were out of commission and we have no way of knowing”. Coach said wearily.  
  
Greg put his hand through his hair and looked at Sally.  
  
“No.” Sally said. “Absolutely not. Not him”.  
  
“Sally, we’ve lost a lot of stuff. We need him”. Greg pleaded.  
  
“He’s an arrogant bastard” Sally snarled.  
  
“And our best chance of finding the twat who did this”.  
  
Sally glared at Greg “Fine. But I’m not dealing with him”.  
  
Greg’s shoulders slumped in obvious relief “Wouldn’t dream of it. Coach, I might have a solution”.  
  
Just then, Mike knocked on the open door. “John? There’s a call for you. It’s from Harry”.  
  
John’s shoulders slumped. He really did not want to do this right now. “Excuse me.”  
  
“John! Little brother!” Harry’s voice slurred.  
  
John stifled a sigh “Harry. Drinking again?”  
  
“Nope, just woke up. Can’t drink so fast John, not a rugby stud like you”. Harry giggled.  
  
“Sure Harry. Look, there’s something urgent happening here. I don’t have time for this. Do I call Clara and ask her to pick you up?” John asked.  
  
“No! I’m fine. I just called to find out how little brother was doing! How’s the love life? Let go of the ring yet?”  
  
“Harry this is not the time”.  
  
“He was always so scared. So petrified John. Of you, of me. Of himself. I don’t know why you liked him so much. You even took that ring with you to uni.” Harry said, her words not slurring so much now.  
  
John closed his eyes, trying to tamp down the frustration and anger he felt whenever Harry raised this subject “I did okay? And he didn’t. Not as much and so he went away. If you’re done reminding me of the worst moment of my life Harry, I would like to get back to my team”.  
  
“Do you think James would have liked seeing you in rugby shorts?”  
  
“Harry!” John shouted. “Jesus Harry, let it go already! I don’t understand why you keep bringing this up every fucking time!”  
  
“Are you joking? Dad’s golden boy, the heterosexual red-blooded child of his misogynistic and homophobic fantasies turned out to be just as gay as his despised black sheep. He even gave you his fucking army watch. It’s motherfucking priceless”. Harry laughed mockingly down the phone.  
  
“Sod off Harry.” John said.  
  
“Mate, I can hear the judgment in your tone. Atleast I haven’t shut myself off from everything except sports and studying for three years coz my high school boyfriend was too scared to acknowledge me.”  
  
“No you’re just on your way to a liver failure”. John bit out.  
  
“John my little one, didn’t you get the memo- we’re all Watsons! We’re all disasters of our own making. Let’s enjoy the descent into hell while we can”. Harry’s voice cackled as John hung up firmly.  
  
He placed his head on the wall, breathing in and out. Every time Harry called him, it always ended like this. Fighting, insults, a periodic reminder of James Sholto like the ring around his neck wasn’t enough.  
  
John clasped the chain around his neck tightly at the pain that echoed  through his chest everytime he remembered James. The furtive looks, the desperate kiss in the rain on the hill… The desperate groping in the closet.  
  
The refusal to acknowledge their relationship. The arguments. The making-up.  
  
Until James’ father was transferred to Australia.  
  
In an act of pure desperation and aching love- John asked him to stay. With him.  
  
The roaring in his ears and the deafening sound of his heart shattering on the floor when James refused and broke up with him.  
  
_It’s just too hard. You deserve better_.  
  
John had always knew that their relationship had survived against the clock. But he couldn’t be ready for the ending. Not in a million years.  
  
Two weeks later, James had moved to Australia and John had an acceptance letter from St Bart’s.  
  
He didn’t even go near the Sholto house those two months of packing.  
  
John let go of the chain, the chain came off and collected in his hand. It was broken. John stared at it. Wiping his eyes, he walked and walked until he reached the Bridge.  
  
It was the middle of winter, so it was already pretty dark. Street singers, vendors were packing up and leaving. Couples were enjoying the twilight, walking hand in hand. People were rushing off to meet their train presumably and there were one or two people, alone and just staring at the river, enjoying a moment of peace or ruminating about decisions and the life they have led until now.  
  
John gripped the chain hard as he thought about how easy it was for James to let go. How easy it was for James to walk away. From him- from them.  
  
He waited for the anger and grief to rise up. Nothing.  
  
Just a feeling of sadness and resignation- the feeling when you remember a good memory which was tarnished by more recent events.  
  
His life’s story in a nutshell.  
  
John stepped back, raising his throwing arm and threw the chain into the high tide waters of the Thames. As the chain disappeared into the water, he walked away to just one thought.  
  
Whoever had stolen his father’s watch was welcome to keep it.  
  
_10th February 1995  
_  
“Are you saying you lost my sunglasses? The brand new one? The one you begged to borrow for your date and told me you wouldn’t lose it 100%??”  
  
Murray shifted guiltily “I don’t know what happened! I had them until we got back to her place and then I remembered them with me when I came back to uni and…  
  
Sally came in “Oh the Murray chair is occupied. What did he lose now?”  
  
“The sunglasses” John scowled.  
  
Sally stifled a grin which John saw “They weren’t that bad!”  
  
“Oh yes they were! Watson you’re cute and have the face of a really hot lesbian and believe me I was really into that for a hot second, but honestly orange rimmed with dirty blond hair? Absolutely not. You should have gone classic black.” Sally said as she pulled up a chair.  
  
“That’s not the point!”  
  
“John! Sally! Do you know where you put that packet I gave you?” Mike popped his head in.  
  
“Mike, we know that was weed.” John said “Dude you were so obvious” Sally chortled.  
  
“Fine, whatever. Where is it?” Mike asked.  
  
John and Sally looked at each other “We…had to flush it down the toilet”.  
  
“What?-  
  
“The building manager was coming upstairs. We didn’t have a choice. It was a split second decision.” Sally cried.  
  
Mike walked in to the kitchen and slumped down on the table “I was planning to make brownies with that. Guys honestly”.  
  
“Damn really? The famous Stamford brownies. Finally” John said.  
  
“You know you can make them without Spider Man’s girlfriend’s namesake” Sally said.  
  
John stifled a laugh at the analogy “Yeah Mike, come on, it's been two years since we've heard of the famous Stamford brownies. We’ve been waiting for this since freshers’ week. Go on!”  
  
“Are you making brownies? Thank God” Greg’s voice came from the door.  
  
Everyone cheered “Hey! Nice to see you on our side. What are you doing here?” John asked.  
  
“He’s driving me nuts. Called me up at 2 am last night yelling about a breakthrough. And then called me again during rugby practice ranting about ‘idiot cleaners washing the evidence away’. I need a break.” Greg groaned.  
  
“I’ll get started on the brownies.” Mike said.  
   
“Greg I told you, he’s a goddamned nightmare”. Sally reminded.  
  
“Over the last week, more shitty graffiti has come up in both lockers Sally. The pitch was dug up in the middle of the night before we had to play our quarters. All players are scared to play since their lucky items are disappearing. John lost his lucky denim jacket along with my lucky police cap. Coach is getting more pissed and he’s afraid that the money locker- where the money for our gear and travel is kept will be next. He’s our best option. Even if he’s bonkers.” Greg said.  
  
Sally scowled but didn’t disagree “Fine. But honestly Greg just let me at him once this case is over and I’ll tackle his Royal Poshness of Dolce and Gabbana fame into the mud, I’m not joking.”  
  
“And they are in the oven!” Mike interrupted with a dramatic ‘aha’.  
  
“You know what? I’m bringing it down with my stupid griping. John, switch on the TV. Let’s watch England get hammered by Scotland and wash the awesome brownies down with sad resignation beer. Swing low, sweet chariot…”  
  
^^^^^^^  
_12th February 1995  
_  
_Kaise, Bhuloon Saatva Jo Din Aaya  
Kisi Ne Tumse Ek Party Mein Milwaaya  
Kaisa Pal Tha Jis Pal Maine Tumko Pehli Baar Dekha Tha  
  
Hum Jo Mile Pehli Baar Maine Jaana Kya Hai Pyaar  
Maine Hosh Bhi Khoya Dil Bhi Khoya  
Kabhi Khud Pe Hansa Main, Aur Kabhi Khud Pe Roya  
  
“How do I forget the seventh day that came?  
Someone introduced you to me at a party.  
What a moment it was when I first saw you._  
  
_When we met for the first time, I knew what was love  
I lost my mind and lost my heart  
Sometimes I laughed at myself, sometimes I cried”  
_  
“Classical night Murray? Really?” John said as they walked into the pub.  
  
“Lisa has this friend who is friends with this violinist who’s going to play today. They wanted to go tonight” Murray said as he looked around for the new Lisa.  
  
“And I’m here why?” John asked , making a mental beeline for the bar.  
  
“Its classical music. On a violin.” Murray said with a pleading look at John. John sighed and acquiesced “Fine. Find the girl. I’ll get some drinks. We’re going to need it”.  
  
Murray nodded and made his way to the front table where a redhead was waving at him. John made his way to the bar and motioned for three beers to the bartender.  
  
“Hey John” Lisa said as John got the beers to the table.  
  
“Hi Lisa. So… violin huh?” John said.  
  
“Oh yeah. My assignment partner is friends with the violinist. She insisted we go to see him.” “I think she has a thing for him” Lisa mock whispered.  
  
John stifled a smile “You’re a good friend Lisa. Anyway, where’s your friend?”  
  
“I don’t know…Oh there she is.” Lisa pointed to the stage.  
  
John looked to where she was pointing to see a tall woman in a green off shoulders dress saunter onto the stage like on a catwalk.  
  
“Hello darlings”. She said silkily. John sat up with a start of recognition as the spotlight shined on her face, the woman from the rugby night.  “It is my honor to introduce a true star in our midst. The very definition of a dark horse who hid himself and his talents in obscurity.” A loud cough sounded to her right. Ignoring it she continued “Gentlemen, ladies and those of other variations of gender please welcome Mr. Sherlock Holmes”.  
  
A tall man walked onto the stage. As he stepped into the spotlight, John’s eyes were arrested at the ethereally beautiful figure. Blue green eyes, silky curly hair, pale cheekbones as high as the Eiffel Tower.  
  
“Good evening” John’s heart nearly stopped at the chocolate rich baritone of Sherlock Holmes’ voice. _Good God is he some devil sent to tempt me? J_ ohn thought in a fit of fanciful desperation.  
  
“I will be playing Bach’s Sonata No 1 followed by Chopin’s Nocturne Op 9 No 2” The man said shortly and placed his bow on the violin.  
  
John tried not to gasp too loudly at the sheer beauty of the way he handled the instrument. Don’t go there Watson he reminded himself as he thought of the connotations of the obvious skill with which he handled this instrument and deliberately lost himself in the music.  
  
Even though he tried not to, John’s eyes went to Sherlock Holmes’ face. His beautiful angelic face did not show effort or concentration easily with a serenity John envied. Sometimes his face broke out into an unconscious smile which did not help John’s heart rate at all.  
  
When he finished with a flourish, John was the loudest to clap.  
  
“Well that was pretty good.” Lisa said her apparently other tone deaf friends nodded obediently.  
  
“Pretty good?” John cried before he caught himself. “I mean- I’ll go get some more beers”. He hurried over to the bar.  
  
As he waited for the beers, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to nearly have his heart seize.  
  
It was Sherlock Holmes.  
  
“Medicine or Dentistry?” He asked.  
  
John blinked “Excuse me?”  
  
“Medicine or Dentistry?” Sherlock Holmes repeated again with a touch of asperity.  
  
“Medicine…but why-  
  
“Good. Rugby player as well, that will do perfectly.” Sherlock Holmes said as the bartender set the beers. He picked up the beers and walked over to the front table.  
  
“Sherlock!” Lisa exclaimed “That was amazing, really beautiful”.  
  
“Thanks” Sherlock said bashfully, but something about the calculation in his eyes made it suspect “It’s a little difficult in front of an audience, but I’m glad it went well.”  
  
John raised an eyebrow at the lies coming out of that shapely mouth and lush lips…Watson I’m going to kick our own arse, please stop.  
  
Sherlock shot him a quick quelling look, John acquiesced and smiled a false smile of his own at Lisa who looked delighted and condescending at Sherlock’s false shyness “Of course Sherlock, I understand. People can be very cruel at times. It’s good that you finally have the courage to come out and play”. Lisa sipped at her beer.  
  
“They can be really mean you know? Especially those jocks.” Sherlock’s voice quavered but he did not take his eyes of Lisa’s face.  
  
“Oh honey, I get it. I’m so glad that Irene finally introduced you to me. Stick with me and no one’s going to harass you I promise.” Lisa said cloyingly sweet and patronizing.  
  
Murray gazed at John uneasily but John shook his head subtly. Don’t give me away, Murray.  
  
“Thanks Lisa” Sherlock looked at her shyly from between his eyelashes “I’m so lucky to have friends like you”. John was about to roll his eyes at the obvious manipulation but he stopped himself.  
  
“Sure honey. You know what? Let’s be naughty. I have a plan in mind on how we can stick it to those mean jocks. Let’s get out of here.”  
  
John and Sherlock sat at the back as Lisa drove. John suddenly felt a paper shoved in his open palm.  
  
  
_Gary asked me to find out who is sabotaging the rugby teams.  
  
_ John frowned and looked for a pen until he saw one lying next to him. He quickly picked it up and scrawled on it.  
  
_Do you mean Greg? You must be the guy Sally likes to grouse about.  
  
And you must be the future Dr and vice captain of the rugby team. Mates with Stamford from bio I think.  
  
How?... John by the way. John Watson._  
  
Hello John. You smell of formaldehyde and have knee scabs with grass stains on your feet. We’re only using formaldehyde during Anatomy and there was a rugby match yesterday in which you scored a try. Obvious really. What’s slightly less obvious is why this woman is taking us to the rugby fields.  
  
John gaped at Sherlock and scrawled back hastily.  
  
_Wait you watch rugby? You watched the game yesterday?  
  
Even in the growing dark, John suspected Sherlock was blushing.  
  
Research purposes strictly. For the case of course.  
  
Of course.  
   
Shut up.  
  
You’re the Chemistry genius right? The Cambridge transfer.  
  
Yes.  
  
Okay. So what do we do now?  
  
Wait.  
_  
The car stopped. “Here we are boys.”  
  
“Are we at the rugby pitch?” Sherlock’s voice came out small.  
  
Lisa’s face contorted into a smile, but John almost recoiled at the fakeness of it “Sherlock you will be fine. I promise. We’re just here to get some petty revenge. Little things really.” She opened her trunk and handed out sprays “Here take this.”  
  
John held the can of red spray. Oh God that’s her. She’s the saboteur. He met Sherlock’s eyes. Sherlock nodded slightly. John squared his shoulders and smiled an equally false smile at Lisa.  
  
“Come on. I’ve got a secret way through without anyone noticing”. Lisa whispered. John noted her not having any spray cans.  
  
Sherlock and John fell back slightly as Sherlock whispered into his ear “Greg and Coach Perry are waiting with the police in the Coach’s office. I think she’s about to make her attempt into the money locker. Keep close and don’t spook her. Try and let your friend know as well.” John nodded sharply and walked behind them.  
  
Murray was protesting “Lisa I don’t know. What is this?”  
  
“It's okay sweetie. I know you’re friends with that captain and that other butch bitch. But you’re mine first right?” Lisa purred.  
  
Murray looked uneasily at John who nodded slightly “Okay…But I don’t know”.  
  
“You don’t need to. That’s why I am here”. Lisa said as they reached the Coach’s office. Lisa jiggled the lock open with her lock picker but just as she was about to walk straight into the trap she looked up.  
  
John looked up where she was gazing and silently cursed. It was the Player of the Month board. That had his smiling photo pinned right on top.  
  
Lisa looked down at John and Sherlock and threw the lock picker at him and ran. Sherlock shouted and ran after her.  
  
John hit the sharp implement away and yelled “She’s getting away!” “Tell them to follow me now”. He ordered Murray and ran after Sherlock into the dark.  
  
“Lisa stop! We know it's you”. Sherlock shouted behind her.  
  
“You know nothing! Nothing about what he did, they deserve it, they deserve everything.” Lisa yelled as she ran onto the pitch.  
  
“Cool motive but why did you attack the women’s rugby team then?” Sherlock yelled.  
  
“Those bitches are no different. Strutting around like men, no decency at all. They deserved that”.  
  
“Even the abusive graffiti?”  
  
“Hell yes-” Lisa said but was cut short as John tackled her onto the ground. Lisa tried to turn and clawed at him but he held her wrists firmly at her back.  
  
“Lisa Wayne, you’re under arrest for grand larceny and defacement.” A panting policeman said as he reached them. John pulled her up and handed her over.  
  
As the police took away a snarling and shouting Lisa, John leaned back onto the stand, trying to catch his breath, after a second Sherlock leaned back next to him.  
  
“That was the most…ridiculous thing I’ve ever done.” John panted.  
  
“And you tried to play with no pants on.” Sherlock and John broke out into giggles.  
  
“That wasn’t just me. We all had to play on even if we lost our pants. Captain’s orders” John broke into a fit of giggles again  
  
“By the way, how did you know it was Lisa?” John asked as they walked slowly towards the parking area.  
  
“Pride. Ego. Take your pick. Adam Jones was the only one to have had a breakup around the time the thefts began. After that it was a matter of catching her in the act.” Sherlock said.  
  
“Why though?” John asked.  
  
“Apparently Lisa had a bit of a reputation for being possessive beyond a reasonable point.” Sherlock shrugged “Hence the act before. Lisa is a classic emotional predator, egoistic, narcissistic and vengeful. She feeds on vulnerability. I suspect Adam suffered the brunt of some emotional abuse as well before he finally left which she could not abide. Meretricious at the end.”  
  
“Brilliant”. John exclaimed.  
  
Sherlock stopped “Re-really?”  
  
“Yes! Absolutely brilliant. That was fantastic.” John enthused.  
  
“That’s not what everyone else says.”  
  
“What do they usually say?”  
  
“Piss off. Fuck off. Take your pick.” John smiled at Sherlock in a silent gesture of sympathy and solidarity. Sherlock returned a tentative smile.  
  
When they reached the bus stop, the bus was still ten minutes away. John and Sherlock settled onto the plastic seats uncomfortably, but cosy in each other’s company.  
  
John stared at Sherlock repeatedly. Even with the streetlight, Sherlock still took his breath away. John inched closer to him until he remembered the green clad woman.  
  
“So, your girlfriend was in on this as well?” John asked casually , his heart and mind in a near paroxysm of hope of a negative answer.  
  
“Who? Irene? Irene’s a friend. A nosy friend who insisted she be a part of this, even when I told her not to” Sherlock scowled.  
  
John almost shouted in triumph “So you don’t have a girlfriend then?”  
  
“No, not really my area” Sherlock said absently looking to the right.  
  
John’s heart hammered as the answer washed over him “Oh…right. So d’you have a boyfriend then? Which is fine by the way”?  
  
Sherlock looked at him sharply “I know its fine”.  
  
“Okay. Good. So do you have a boyfriend?”  
  
“No”  
  
“Right Good. Okay, you’re unattached…like me”. John cleared his throat as his lips curved into his “pulling” charming smile “Good.”  
  
Sherlock looked at him a little furtively “John are you asking… If so I should say I am flattered-  
  
“No, no” John interrupted before he could make a bigger fool of himself “Of course not. I wasn’t asking- “No.” His smile turned false and forced as he looked away, _Good job you moron. Why would he want to go out with you, look at him._  
  
Thankfully at that time, a huge light came from the left. “Um, I’ll take this bus.” John said hurriedly. Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but John interrupted, really not wanting to take another…just no. “Thanks…Sherlock.” He smiled forcedly at him and almost ran onto the bus, leaving behind a bewildered and slightly sad looking Chemistry genius.  
  
  
_14th February 1995- Valentine’s Day  
_  
John finished with a strong strum. The crowd cheered and applauded loudly.  
  
“Thanks”. John smiled and waved.  
  
“That was amazing. Give it up for John!” The waitress announcer lady came out with the mic.  
 John rushed backstage and left the guitar in Greg’s hands who had come backstage during the song.  
  
“Go get him” Sally said smiling. “But I’m not doing double dates”. She scowled.  
  
“I wouldn’t dream of asking.” John said smiling and pecked her cheek as he ran out towards the third table from the back where Irene, Sherlock and the cat loving Molly Hooper from Anatomy sat.  
  
“Hey John”. Molly smiled.  
  
“Hey Molly.” John said politely, not being able to take his eyes off Sherlock. Sherlock sat there staring back at him with something approaching wonder.  
  
“I think we’d best leave the lovebirds alone sweetheart” Irene said to her girlfriend. Molly opened her mouth to protest but when she looked at Sherlock her mouth formed an “O” and tookIrene’s proffered arm and walked away.  
  
“Sherlock” John swallowed.  
  
“John.” Sherlock stood up hurriedly “Um, please sit.” He offered the seat next to him.  
  
John stifled a fond smile at Sherlock’s unnecessary formality. _Posh boy_. He thought fondly as he wondered what it would require to ruffle him so he forgets his manners.  
  
_Down boy,_ John thought to himself.  
  
“John about-  
  
“Sherlock about-” They spoke in unison.  
  
“Sherlock. About that night. I’m sorry about leaving you alone like that.” John said in a rush. “There is no excuse to do that-  
  
“John” Sherlock raised a hand “I should apologize. When you talked about being unattached- I thought you were asking me out. It was my mistake and I made things awkward”.  
  
“Sherlock no. You didn’t. I promise”. John said leaning over to Sherlock. “I was asking you out…but I realised I had gone the wrong way about it, and I haven’t stopped thinking about you since. Hence I _did that_ on the stage. That was for you. That was about you. If you’re not interested, it’s all fine; I wouldn’t mind being just friends-  
  
“No!” Sherlock almost shouted “I am! Interested. Very. It’s just- you’re the rugby vice captain and the third year medical student everyone loves. I was…scared. I didn’t think you would really be interested. In me”. Sherlock said looking down.  
  
“Sherlock. Believe me, I am interested. Very interested.” John smiled a rare happy smile as Sherlock looked up, his own face lighting up with a blooming smile.  
  
“I figured, after that …but I wasn’t sure-  
  
“Believe me. Yes”.  
  
“Okay. That Italian restaurant is still open-  
  
“Sounds great. But first.” John leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock noticeably froze for a split second until John moved his lips. Sherlock held John’s strong shoulders as he kissed him back more forcefully, his mind in a state of rare complete silence and afire at the same time.  
  
A loud whooping sound came from right. Sherlock and John looked over to see Greg, Sally, Mike, Murray, Irene and Molly whistling and hooting at them.  
  
“The Italian restaurant sounds nice” John whispered.  
  
“The owner owes me a favour, so I get a nice discount. But after-” Sherlock whispered back.  
  
John grinned lazily with heat in his eyes “Wait and find out”  


**Author's Note:**

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